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About Kobe

I pull up near the old gas station—shady spot, y’all. This gal’s standin’ there, red heels, smokin’ a cig. I’m thinkin’, “She’s bold, I’m bold—match made!” I roll down my window, all cool, and she’s like, “Hey, tractor lady, you lost?” I’m dyin’ laughin’—lost? Me? Never! I say, “Naw, just curious, girl!” She smirks, tosses her hair, and I’m like, wow, she’s got *Timbuktu* vibes—untamed, fierce, y’know? “The desert hides its secrets,” like the movie says.

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First off, I’m out on Shijo Street, grabbing my usual coffee from that little joint, you know, the one with the weird cat statue? Yeah, that one. I’m half asleep, and this barista, bless her heart, spills hot water all over the counter. I’m like, “Dude, you good?” She just laughs it off, but I’m thinking, “Girl, that’s a health hazard!”

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